by York, Ashley
Now even Arthur could not give her solace. If John did not choose to stay, she would be even more alone than she had imagined before his return. She hunkered down beside the dying embers and poked them with the iron stick until a flame burst through the log. Sitting on the stool, she stared into the red, blue flames and tried to think of a way to live the rest of her life with no one to love her.
No. She didn't want to do it. It was wrong for her to think of Arthur as a way out of her loneliness but it was also wrong for her husband to not see to her needs. Not just physical but companionship, safety…all the things she needed. Could she really take him to her bed? It was acceptable, was it not, when one's husband refused to do his duty?
Or was she being like the serpent in the garden asking “are you sure God said you could not eat the fruit of this tree”?
She paced the length of the room. She stopped when she noticed the light coming through the window. Sunrise at last. The footfall in the hall gave her pause. She opened her door as quietly as possible, and she saw Arthur's back as he was passing by her door. He turned at the movement and their eyes met.
"Were you at my door, Arthur?"
"I was, my lady. I worry about you." He took the step that closed the distance between them. She could see the desire in his eyes. Her lungs expanded with a deep breath of resignation.
Someone wants my company.
Stepping back, she opened the door to him.
§
John's hand gripped the dagger at his waist. His blood frozen in his veins as he watched Rowena's door slowly shut. He would have sworn he was wrong about her. Torn between the desire to rip the door from its hinges and tear her lover apart with his bare hands as she watched or flinging her own worthless body from the window, John just stood, rooted to the darkened stairs where he watched.
Should he wait and see how long the man remained with his wife? Should he confront them with the proof having seen her welcome him into her bedchamber. His head hurt. This was not going as he had planned. He had come back from another night at the Owl and Thistle with the hope of spending intimate time with his wife. He had thought of the stories he would tell her to make her laugh. He wanted her to see him as he really was.
What wasted ideas.
Who was he? An orphan boy raised by a bastard king.
John turned back the way he had come. He entered the Great Hall to find Peter already preparing for the day's journey to visit the other villages.
"Good night?" Peter smiled as he rolled the blanket tightly around his belongings.
John grunted as he continued past his friend.
"John?" Peter followed him into the kitchen but stilled when he saw the look of murderous rage. "What is amiss?"
"I was wrong in trusting my wife. She has just now taken her lover into her bedchamber." Pouring a cup of aged cider from the pitcher, John dropped to the hard wooden bench beside the cooking fire."She is a whore."
Peter looked around before he spoke in hushed tones. "John, have a care. This is Rowena's land. These are her people. You are the Norman."
Noticing the servants for the first time at the work table a short distance away, John struggled to keep his feelings in check. He swallowed down his irritation with the cider before he spoke.
"I would have a hard time forgetting that fact." The cider sloshed down his chin.
"It did not go that badly yesterday." Peter's eyes remained on John. "The villagers could have been much more unreceptive."
"Much more unreceptive? Is that a polite way of saying they could have just killed me on the spot? Would that have been 'more unreceptive'?"
John went to stand beside the fire with his back to the room. He watched the flames greedily licking at the dry wood. The scent of honey bread and fresh cream permeated the space. All he could see was Rowena's upturned face in the throes of passion. Smashing his fist into the iron rack beside him, the rack flew back against the wall. Crocks of butter crashed onto the floor.
"Who do these people think that I am? Their lackey?" John faced Peter who quickly backed out of harm's way. The workers at the table did the same. "Do they think they can just violate my property?"
Peter took a step toward his friend, "John, perhaps…"
"No." John stepped away, his arms pulled from Peter's reach. "This is enough. Gather the men. We will put to rest any idea that I may be ousted and that William will not remain the rightful king once and for all."
"Perhaps…" Peter paused.
John glared at him, waiting for his answer.
"…you should just see Rowena before we leave? Confirm that what you believe is the truth?"
John glanced toward the ceiling wondering if she was indeed just over his head at that very moment moaning for Arthur. The man would be dead if he went there now.
He considered Peter's suggestion. Was not knowing even worse than murder? It would be better to know. And the man deserved to be killed. John headed back to the stairs taking them two at a time.
Rowena's door stood open as he slowly approached it. He was too late to catch them in the act. She was still wearing her bed clothes. Her maid rummaged noisily through her chest of clothes when John stalked into the room.
"Leave us."
Joan jumped at his voice and cowered as she passed by him.
Rowena turned to look at him. He searched her face. There were no visible signs of the encounter. Her lips were not red or puffy from passionate kisses. There were no marks that he could see on her face or hands. Perhaps beneath her bed gown there would be visible signs. Dare he order her to strip? Even in his rage he knew that would not be proper. He did not want to humiliate her. Why did he care for her feelings when she was playing him for the fool? The answer startled him. Because she was his.
"You return," Rowena spoke firmly to him, raising his ire at her audacity. Not the response he would have expected from an adulteress with much to hide.
"So it seems." When she would have turned away from him, he grabbed her arm to still her movement. “How did you sleep?"
Her silver eyes showed confusion at the question. "Well enough." Dark circles showed she was lying.
"I see." He was uncertain whether he wanted to pull her up against him and taste her lips once more or shove her cruelly away from him. He let go of her arm. She remained where she was.
"Will you be breaking your fast with me then?" Her eyes looked almost hopeful. Was the puffiness from lack of sleep or crying?
"I am leaving." He was sure he saw disappointment this time.
"When?" She looked down at the ground. Afraid of the answer?
"Immediately." He needed to know if he was right with what he thought she was feeling. He had been so wrong about her passions the night before. He was probably wrong now. "Do you wish me to stay?"
Her head snapped up and she seemed to be searching his face. What was she looking for? "Your choice, my lord. Whatever you desire." She blanched and he supposed it was her choice of words when she turned her reddening face away in embarrassment.
"You are what I desire." John wished he could take those words back. He did not want her to know how she made him feel, how deeply she affected him.
"You have me." Her words sounded breathy, her hands gripped tightly at her side.
"It would appear I do not." He watched for any shift, any acknowledgment that she feared being discovered but he saw none.
"It would appear then that you do not desire me." She lifted her nose slightly. Defiance.
"I say it was quite apparent that I do, but then you rushed out of the room last night."
Her eyes rounded as if with pain at the statement.
He did not want to hurt her but he could not say why not. It was certainly what she deserved.
"I was…" She glanced again at the ground. "…shocked at the sight."
"At my arousal?"
She nodded slightly but did not look at him.
He moved in closer, gently grasping her chin, tipping her head so
he could see into her eyes. "You have never seen a man's arousal before?"
Tears trembled in her lashes and his heart went out to her. She shook her head slowly, a single tear falling down each cheek."I have not." Her voice was quiet.
"Then I apologize at offending you with my desire." He actually believed she was telling him the truth. Then why did she open the door for Arthur so easily? His confusion was complete. He dropped his hand from her face and turned away.
"At the king's order, I am to survey my lands and make my presence known. I will return when I have completed my duty."
He slammed the door behind him.
He did not look back.
Chapter Eleven
As had become her morning habit, Rowena visited the chapel to ask forgiveness for her transgressions and to pray for a peaceful existence with her husband. She did not ask for forgiveness for the deep desire and longing she had for her husband. That was acceptable. God had created her to have those feelings for him. She asked for forgiveness in thinking she had any desire for Arthur. Uncovering her head as she exited the stone building, Rowena was impatient to be on her way and left Joan to catch up with her.
She ambled down the worn path. Three men ahead of her caught her eye. They were shabbily dressed, nearly blocking the road. With sudden alarm she glanced around the area and realized how unwise she had been to go out without a guard. The area was completely secluded. Joan had accompanied her to the chapel but they both knew she was not an adequate defense against the rougher elements. In the past, it had been Arthur who had been their protection. It was so awkward between them now that she preferred to go alone. One man stepped toward her and the others seemed to keep watch up the alley. Covered with a dark hood, the man was not anyone Rowena recognized. Her heart beat loudly in fear.
"Rowena." His raspy voice whispered her name. There was something familiar about it.
Torn between running away to safety and confronting the hooded man, Rowena chose the latter. She squared her shoulders and spoke with authority. "What is it you want?"
"Do you not recognize your own kin?" He pulled back the hood enough to show his face.
"Cousin!" Her fear was replaced with relief then delight at seeing one of her own family. She embraced him, holding him tight. His strong arms about her seemed to speak of family loyalty and protection, both which were no longer a part of her life.
"I feared all were dead." Her voice was muffled against his firm shoulder as tears ran unchecked. She released him with great reluctance.
"All but me." He took her by her fingertips, stretching out her arms. "Our little Rowena has blossomed into a beautiful woman."
He gently kissed her cheek and embraced her again. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel again the protection of family love and acceptance, fleeting as it was.
"Where have you been?" she asked. He settled her hand in the crook of his arm and led her toward the alley where the other two men waited.
He surprised her when he put his finger to his lip. She obeyed.
"Malcolm," he addressed the taller of the two men, "what say you find us something to eat?" Turning to include the smaller man, a swarthy blonde with a thick white scar down his cheek, he asked. "Roland?"
The two men exchanged glances then accepted the coin Leofrid held up to them. Once they were out of earshot, Rowena repeated her question.
"I have been hiding. There is a price for my capture."
"I do not believe they think you are still alive."
He raised one slender brow. "Oh, they know I'm alive. They hunt me like a dog." He shook his head as if to clear his mind of some unpleasantness. She could only guess at his hardships. Leofrid's mouth tightened into a grim smile. He tipped his head to one side. "How fare ye?"
He glanced around, assessing the area as his eyes took in everything around him. His wariness sent a chill up her spine. Rowena hesitated, unsure how to answer him but his suddenly probing glance caused her to blush. "I fare well enough."
"You've been bedding the Norman, haven't you!?" It was more an accusation than a question, and he did seem to find humor in it.
Rowena gasped. "Of course not!"
His eyes widened in surprise.
"Are you not wed to one?"
Her embarrassment deepened when she realized he had been teasing her.
"He has not bedded you yet? Is there something wrong with the man?"
"I cannot say." Rowena was mortified at discussing these intimate details of her married life with her cousin, no matter how close they had been as children. Leofrid's instant defensiveness on her behalf warmed her heart.
"Ah, then why would he not gladly and thankfully accept the wonderful gift he received from his king?"
She seriously doubted that John thought of her as any kind of prize and she frowned at him. "I cannot say."
Leofrid had always been very considerate of her and she could see it now in the way he looked at her. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. "You are a gift, Cousin, and he is very blessed to have you to wife."
She did not feel wanted when her husband left her untouched but she thought it best not to mention that detail.
"You are very kind." Smiling, she could almost believe her whole family was alive and well and just waiting around the corner. "I have missed you!"
"And I you."
Rowena glanced down the alley where the other two men had disappeared. She was concerned for Leofrid as well. "Are those two friends of yours?"
He shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. "A wanted man has no friends. I am thankful I have found men to join forces with so that I am able to survive."
"It is that bad?"
He raised his eyebrows as if to ask if she was really that naive.
"Is there any way I can be of assistance to you?"
He smirked at her in response. "Not yet but I wanted to talk to you, to see if you were well. And I do see you are well, if a little sad."
Was she so transparent? Maybe just to her cousin.
"I must be off. I do not want my ‘friends’ to see you with me again. They are ruthless and have been known to take noblewomen in exchange for ransom. I would not want to see that happen to you." He patted her hand reassuringly. "I am afraid ransom is not all they take from the women. I cannot really control them. They don't know who I am, and I want to keep it that way. Take care, Rowena. I do not want to see you traveling unaccompanied again."
He sounded so like her own father, a lump grew in her throat.
Kissing her lightly on each cheek, he smiled, his green eyes sparkling. "Goodbye for now."
"Goodbye for now." He headed in the same direction the other two had gone.
She fought back the sadness that threatened to engulf her. Alone again. She quickly went out to where more people milled around, then took the road leading up to the castle. Her cousin looked terrible. She prayed he was not ill. Her heart swelled with the satisfaction of knowing she was not the sole survivor of the Godwin family.
The days dragged by. With each group of men entering through the town gate, she would stand at the window in her room and search for any sign of John. When the Norman men came into the Great Hall, she would stand close by, listening for any word of him as they talked amongst themselves. She could understand their language better than she could speak it, but much of what they said never made sense. She listened just for his name. There was nothing. She was convinced he would not return.
Alone in the garden, the bright sun bleached the scene into colorless drabness. Butterflies flitted by, creating dark shadows against the bushes. Where she had once seen only the peace and beauty of the surrounding, she now saw a vast space of emptiness.
"My lady?"
She startled at the sound, turned and found Arthur standing where the cypress had once been, the dirt around him raw and exposed. With his head uncovered, his thick red hair resting on his shoulder, he looked hopeful. Rowena wondered what news could leave such a happy countenanc
e on the man. The last time she had seen him, she had been contemplating turning against her vows and accepting a long overdue overture of love. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for whatever he was about to say.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"I have come to bid you goodbye."
Tipping her head, she considered why he would appear so happy about leaving her if he truly was in love with her. Waiting, he offered no additional explanation. She finally broke the heavy silence. "I do not understand."
"I have orders to head north at once."
"These orders are from my husband, then?" She didn't miss his disappointment at her question. He knew how she felt about her husband. Arthur had tried long and hard to distract her from him.
When she let him into her room that morning, she went willingly into his arms and found them lacking. She felt nothing, no passion, no desire. Her desire was for her husband alone, which was shocking to her as well.
The memory of his soft hand caressing her and his lips against her own brought to her again the repulsion she had experienced at Arthur's touch. He had seen it, too. His face had distorted into a mask of rage when he left her that morning. She had never even seen him angry before that.
"No, my lady." He spoke through clenched teeth. "They are the king’s orders."
"I see." She cast her eyes down to spare him her own feelings of disappointment. Word, any word, from her husband would have been welcome at this time.
"I leave immediately." He held his head proudly, and Rowena felt great sympathy for him. She had hurt him so badly but had not meant to. She took a step toward him and made to reach out to him, but when he stiffened, she dropped her hand to her side. No, he did not want her touch now. "I am sorry, Arthur."
He closed his eyes in distress, struggling with himself. His emotions in check, he finally met her gaze. "I came only to bid you goodbye, my lady."
He turned away from her, strode to the garden gate and was gone.
"Good bye, my friend." She said the words on a whisper, and the bushes rustled with the breeze in answer.
The sweet smell of the late summer flowers wafted up to her. She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Despite attempts to keep busy with the garden, helping in the kitchen, maintaining the stores, and keeping an inventory of her holdings, she knew the loneliness would not be filled. Wallowing would help nothing. If she was to be alone, she needed to be strong. She just did not want to be alone.
